Diamond placed him. Earl Vogel, a small-tine drug pusher, one of a chain that Greco supplied.
‘Are you trying to take over?’ he asked bluntly.
Vogel gave a casual shrug. ‘So what if I am? I can pay you. Greco’s losing his grip — lots of the boys are figuring it’s time to break away and set up on their own. I just want someone between me and Turk.’
Diamond got himself a glass of water from the cooler and thought about it. He despised the dope business and felt only loathing for the man seated across from his desk. He’d seen too many lives ruined, kids dragged down to gutter level — but this was another chance to get back at Greco. He could do something about Vogel afterwards.
‘Okay,’ he said. ‘I’ll keep Turk off your back for a century a day.’
‘That’s great, man.’ Vogel pulled a wad of notes from his back pocket and peeled off one hundred dollars. ‘I’ll pay cash each day, okay?’
Diamond nodded, strapped on his shoulder holster and went down the stairs with his new client.
‘Reckon there’ll be nothing happening till tonight,’ Vogel drawled as they hit the street. ‘We’ll go back to my place. I have to hang around there for a phone call — I’m waiting on a supply coming in.’
They walked along Chartres and cut through the French Market, piled high with fruit and vegetables. Vogel lived in and operated his business from one room in a drab hotel: it was a top floor room, with a fire escape climbing down the rear wall.
Diamond checked that door and window were locked. There was no air-conditioning and the air was like treacle.
Vogel was amused. ‘They ain’t going to come here — they’ll try to hit me after dark when I’m doing my rounds. You can bet on it.’
‘It’s your life you’re betting on.’
The telephone rang and Vogel grabbed it. ‘Yeah . . . tonight, okay . . . the usual place.’ He cut off quickly. ‘Let’s grab something to eat while we can.’
They went out to a diner around the corner for chicken and French fries and apple strudel. Diamond bought two cans of Pepsi to take back with him.
Upstairs again, Earl Vogel sprawled out on the bed and cat-napped. Diamond took a hard chair, jacket off, by the window, his nose wrinkling at the smell. A professional couldn’t always pick his jobs, and stay in business.
A tap dripped. A cockroach scuttled across the floor. Diamond relaxed, waiting for darkness.
He sipped Pepsi and watched the river from the window. The dockside was busy, ships loading and unloading, whores picking up sailors; a group of tourists boarded a replica paddle-steamer. He watched, and listened.
Gradually twilight came and shadows gathered.
Chapter Ten – Alley Corpse
Earl Vogel awoke. He rolled off his bed, went to a sink in the corner of the room and splashed water on his face. He dried his hands on a dirty towel.
‘Time to go,’ he drawled. ‘This is where you start earning your money.’
Diamond stood up and slipped on his jacket, checked that his revolver was ready to hand and preceded the drug pusher down the stairs. A bare bulb glowed in the stairwell and there was garbage littering the hallway. He looked both ways outside; there were the usual crowds on the sidewalk but nobody acting suspiciously. Vogel took the lead, turning confidently into an unlit alley alongside the hotel.
They were halfway through the alley when a big figure loomed out of shadow and hands closed around Vogel’s throat.
Diamond recognised Turk and moved fast; he gripped Turk’s little fingers and bent them back to break his hold. He slammed Greco’s new enforcer hard against the wall and Vogel jumped clear.
Turk’s small eyes gleamed in folds of flesh. ‘You again! This time, Diamond, I’m going to —’
Diamond ducked as Turk swung a ham-sized fist, grabbed his arm and smashed him against the wall again.
Vogel’s voice betrayed excitement as he shouted encouragement. ‘That’s the stuff, Wash — give it to him!’
But the ex-wrestler was big and strong and knew all the dirty tricks; he wasn’t someone to fool around with in a dark alley. Diamond wanted the fight over quickly.
Turk lashed out at his knee-cap and Diamond backed away, luring him off-balance; then he went in under the powerful arms reaching for him, gripped Turk’s nose with the fingers of one hand and forced his head back.
Turk squealed, and Diamond chopped at the exposed throat with the side of his free hand, held flat and rigid as a board, hurting his damaged voice-box.
Turk gave a high-pitched whining sound and sank down against the wall, hands going to his throat as he gasped for air. He sat in smelly garbage, wheezing like a leaky balloon.
Vogel darted forward eagerly, ready to use his pointed shoes.
Diamond looked past him and glimpsed a moving shadow. ‘Get down!’
There was a sharp crack, a stabbing tongue of flame and Vogel shuddered and crashed to the ground.
Diamond dived flat, drawing his revolver and cursing. He heard soft running footfalls and crawled towards Vogel’s body. The bullet had smashed into his back at close range, penetrating the heart and exited through his chest; blood pumped like an obscene fountain and Diamond had seen enough gunshot wounds to know he was beyond help.
He moved warily down the alley. It was dark, silent. There came a metallic clatter as his foot kicked something; the killer had discarded his revolver and fled. Diamond didn’t touch it. He continued to the end of the alley, but there was no sign of the gunman.
He puzzled over it. If Greco had sent Turk to punish Vogel, then who had shot him? And why?
Diamond walked back to the corpse. Turk had dragged himself away, obviously reluctant to be involved.
Diamond returned to the hotel and used their telephone to call the police, then waited beside the body.
He did not have long to wait before he heard the wail of a siren. A white Ford cruiser arrived with dome-light flashing and a squeal of brakes. Two uniformed patrolmen jumped out.
‘Hold it right there, boy!’
The first cop held a gun pointed at him.
‘Now face the wall, arms out, lean against it. Legs apart — up on your toes!’
Diamond obeyed. The second patrolman made a body search, took his revolver and sniffed the barrel.
‘This hasn’t been fired.’
‘Who’re you, black boy? Turn around and answer me — how come you’re carrying a piece? You got a license?’
Diamond turned slowly. ‘Can I get my wallet out?’
‘Sure you can — nice and easy unless you want a hole in yuh.’
Diamond pulled out his wallet, opened it to show his I.D.
‘Private snooper, huh?’ The patrolman didn’t seem impressed.
His partner crouched beside the body of Earl Vogel. ‘This one’s a goner — better call for the meat wagon.’
‘The gun’s in the alley,’ Diamond said.
‘We’ll do the police work — you just answer questions. What do you know about the dead man?’
By the time Diamond had told his story, an unmarked car arrived with a couple of plainclothes men. One, burly with brown eyes and unruly hair, introduced himself as Detective Jessel. He took Diamond through his story again after personally checking his I.D.
‘He could have had two guns,’ his partner said, ‘and planted the one he used in the alley.’
‘You-all know why I should kill my own client?’ Diamond protested.
‘You tell us.’
Jessel came to a decision. ‘You carry on here, Mac. The lieutenant will want to question this witness — I’ll take him in now.’
Diamond got in the police car and Jessel drove to the station, parked and they went upstairs to the squadroom. There was a harsh light from overhead fluorescent tubes and a green glow from banks of VDUs; the smell of stale cigarette smoke and a clatter from typing. Someone swore into a telephone.
They walked past a bulletin board and threaded a way between desks on the way t
o an office at the rear. Cave, feet up on his desk, winked as Diamond went by.
Jessel knocked lightly on a frosted glass door that had painted on it: Lieutenant of Detectives.
An unhurried voice called, ‘Come in.’
Jessel opened the door and motioned Diamond through. The office was small and square with one window covered by a grille, cupboard and hat stand, a desk with a plastic nameplate:
Detective Lieutenant Stoner
While Jessel gave him a quick run-down on the murder, Diamond studied Cave’s superior officer. Stoner had greying hair and rimless spectacles; his dress was neat and his manner appeared mild — but the mildness might prove deceptive.
Stoner took Diamond through his story for a third time, asking questions, and checked his I.D. yet again. His face grew suspicious, his voice hard.
‘You’re known, Diamond. You don’t have a record, but we know you worked for Greco as an enforcer. So just how did you come by an investigator’s license?’
‘Well, now, your Detective Cave arranged that.’
Stoner’s eyebrows lifted. ‘Did he now?’ he said softly, and then raised his voice. ‘Fred, move your ass in here.’
When Cave arrived, he was preceded by a second man wearing denim and long greasy hair.
‘Phillips, narcotics,’ he said, flashing a badge. ‘About your murder victim, Earl Vogel, a pusher. We’ve had an eye on him for a while. Small-time, we were hoping for a lead to his supplier. That’s cooked, of course. Apart from that, he’s no loss to anybody.’
Stoner’s back stiffened as if someone had stuck a stair rod down it. ‘It’s still murder, and it’s my job to investigate.’
Phillips shrugged as if he couldn’t have cared less.
Diamond volunteered, ‘Vogel was only a link in a chain — at least, that’s what he told me.’
‘You did a great job of protecting him,’ Stoner said coldly, and turned his gaze on Cave. ‘Suppose you explain why you got a P.I. license for Greco’s enforcer?’
Cave lit a Marlboro and spoke casually. ‘Diamond’s okay — I checked him out. He’d already quit Greco, and the Fox sent someone round — probably Turk — to wreck his apartment. He’s legit now.’
Stoner glared at his detective with compressed lips, then turned to Jessel.
‘Type up Diamond’s statement and get him to sign it. You can give him back his gun. And you, black boy, keep your nose clean or I’ll have your license. You hear me? Fred, stay behind — I want to talk to you.’
After Jessel, Diamond and Phillips had left the office, Stoner said quietly: ‘Close the door.’
Cave obeyed and took a seat, tapping ash into the desk tray.
‘You set this up, Fred. Just what the hell are you playing at?’
‘Diamond was protecting his client.’
‘The police give any protection necessary. You know that.’
‘To a drug pedlar?’
Lieutenant Harry Stoner didn’t answer. He loosened his tie as though he were strangling.
Cave’s face bore the hint of a sneer as he asked, ‘Are you really worried about one less pusher?’
‘You’re playing a dangerous game, Fred. If you’re caught out, there’ll be nothing I can do for you. Now bring in Turk for questioning.’
Cave stubbed out his cigarette and rose to his feet.
‘I don’t like to see the germs get away with it all the time . . . you might try tying the murder weapon to Kenny.’ His lips curved in a bitter smile. ‘And I bet you five Greco’s lawyer will spring him before you even get to question him.’
*
Leon Greco looked up from behind his desk in his import-export office. He wore a harassed expression and artificial light put dark shadows under his eyes. He looked as if he couldn’t believe what Turk had just told him.
The enforcer’s face was pale as chalk and he continually massaged his throat with his fingers. He had difficulty talking and it had taken a while to get the full story out of him.
‘What the hell’s going on?’ Greco demanded. ‘I didn’t order Earl shot — who could have done it? Do you know anything about this, Kenny?’
‘Not me,’ the lanky gunman said uneasily. ‘You sure it wasn’t Wash, Turk?’
‘I’m — sure,’ Turk croaked.
‘Then it must be someone trying to muscle in on the dope business.’
‘You’d better have a damn good alibi if you want my lawyer to represent you.’
‘I was with you,’ Kenny said. ‘Remember?’
His gaze rested on the wall behind Greco’s head, where a glamour calendar showed a redhead in fishnet stockings. His tongue moistened his lips.
‘Yeah, I remember.’ Greco sighed. He hadn’t slept well the previous night and his stomach was upset.
As if he didn’t have enough trouble with double-crossing managers and the cops starting to put pressure on . . . now this stupid murder, trying to tie Kenny in. He worried that it might interfere with his new set-up.
He reached in his jacket for his wallet, and extracted several large bills. ‘Turk, you’d better lie low for a few days. Take a trip somewhere.’
‘Right, Mr. Greco.’
Leon Greco rose from his desk and switched off the light. He locked the office and got into his grey Ford. Kenny drove.
After a pause, Greco said. ‘What does Wash think he’s doing? This is the second time he’s interfered.’
‘Looks like he’s got it in for you personally.’
‘Stupid, stupid.’ Greco shook his head sadly, then lit a cigar. ‘I’ll have to fix that son-of-a-bitch. I’ll fix him real good.’
Chapter Eleven – The Fix
Diamond and Chelsea sprawled happy but exhausted in a rumpled bed. It was almost three o’clock in the morning, after a session at the Black Cat, and Chelsea had insisted on his coming back to her place because, as she put it, ‘My bed’s bigger than yours.’
She curled up inside his arms and was dozing off when she remembered. It had gone right out of her head when she heard he’d been mixed up in a shooting and had been taken to police headquarters. All she could think of then was that he might have been killed.
‘Voodoo dancer,’ she mumbled into his armpit.
‘What was that, baby?’
‘Julie — the dancer you asked after. Besides working for Doc Ambrose, she does an act at the Folies Club.’
‘That’s great,’ Diamond said sleepily. ‘Guess I’ll look her up tomorrow.’
*
By daylight, the Folies off Bourbon didn’t look anything special. The frontage was narrow, the doorway set back and the photographs of topless dancers seemed strangely old-fashioned. There were no bright lights, no music and no customers.
Diamond kept hammering on the door until someone opened it; a shrivelled-up man with a broom nearly as tall as himself. Behind him, Diamond caught sight of chairs piled on tables in dim lighting.
‘Yes, what is it now?’
‘I’m trying to locate Julie.’
‘She isn’t here and, anyway, she ain’t that sort.’
‘This is business. I just need her address, and she’ll thank you for giving it.’
The cleaner sniffed and wiped his nose on his sleeve. Diamond folded a twenty and passed it to a gnarled hand.
‘That’s different. She’s got a place on Lafayette, near the old City Hall — the Pyramid — but she sure ain’t going to like you for getting her out of bed before midday.’
Diamond drove west along Bourbon, crossed Canal and continued through the business section till he reached Lafayette Street. He located the Pyramid, a new tower block that rose in concrete and glass steps, glanced at his watch and looked for a parking slot. He found a café and lingered over a couple of cups of coffee.
It was just noon when he walked into the foyer and asked for her apartment number, took the elevator and leaned on the bell-push.
The door opened a fraction and Julie brushed back tousled hair from her eyes. ‘I don’t know
you.’
Diamond showed his P.I. license and said, ‘I need your help, Miss, and I’m willing to pay you.’
‘Yeah? Well, come on in — all I ever seem to meet is men who want something for nothing.’
The apartment was smart with black-and-white prints on the walls, white rugs and black chairs. Julie squatted, cross-legged on a cushion and Diamond took a chair. She wore a wrap tied with a sash at the waist, and he saw hard muscular legs. She didn’t seem to have anything on underneath.
‘Don’t get ideas, brother. I just got out of bed, is all.’
Diamond smiled. ‘I’m satisfied with my own woman.’
‘Lucky woman . . . say, you scared of snakes?’
‘Only the poisonous kind.’
‘That’s good.’ Julie sat motionless as a statue, only her eyes moving towards a corner of the room. ‘I shan’t have to put Suzie back in her basket. She likes to move around, and that makes some people nervous.’
Diamond glanced over to where she was looking and saw the python slowly slithering across a rug, its head raised. Suzie had a mottled emerald green and brown pattern that glittered in the sunlight coming through the window.
‘So what d’you want for your money?’
Diamond reflected that this girl had a unique way of discouraging men who didn’t interest her.
‘I’ve a client whose daughter has fallen for Doc Ambrose’s line — and he wants her back. Personally, I read Ambrose as no more than a conman and, if you were to tell her, maybe she’ll believe you and go back home. I’m offering three-fifty for this service.’
Julie’s eyes widened. Her olive skin still held the musky scent of a woman straight from her bed.
‘Make it four and I can be very convincing.’
‘Done.’ Diamond opened his wallet and counted out the bills; he didn’t think Leland would baulk at paying if he got Ella back.
Julie rose in one movement, as sinuous as her snake, uncoiling smoothly without using her hands. She counted the money and held on tight to it.
‘Tonight at the club,’ she said. ‘After my act.’
Enforcer Page 7
